


side effects

by scintillae



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Witcher AU, witcher dimitri and sorcerer claude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintillae/pseuds/scintillae
Summary: “The wyvern is for the wall, but…” Claude makes a pause and his eyes fall on the lion-shaped medallion dangling from Dimitri’s neck. “For your life, I’ve another idea. Your metabolism is faster and more resilient than mine. I like to make my own potions, try new things. I usually try them on myself, but my very own witcher? I can’t pass this chance, especially if you have so little regard for your own life.”Dimitri stares at Claude in disbelief, but Claude is looking at him with impossibly green eyes, waiting for an answer. “Are you a druid?”“Druid, sorcerer, whatever you want to call it,” Claude replies, dismissive. “Well? C’mon! I’m not going to kill you.”In the middle of a hunt, Dimitri stumbles upon a small house in the middle of the forest.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 109





	side effects

Drawing the wyvern into the forest seemed like a good idea, even now that Dimitri is trying to outrun it. The creature has no choice but to slalom awkwardly between the trees, screeching and haphazardly spitting its venom, but the chase took a toll on the young witcher who finds himself out of breath as he hides behind a tree.

It’s late. The dim light of the stars barely pierces through the heavy coat of leaves over their heads and fortunately, the monster’s sight is worse than Dimitri’s. The screeching stops, but the dead leaves still crack under the wyvern’s claws.

Dimitri stands unmoving, gripping his silver sword tighter. He jumps behind the creature and extends his left hand, casting a telekinetic blast that smashes it against a tree. Taking his chance, he runs towards the stunned beast, lifting his sword with both hands.

But its tail catches him in his blind spot. Its sharp venomous tip pierces through his side and throws him off balance, and his blade hits the tree instead.

While Dimitri didn’t come unprepared, he has little time left before the poison incapacitates him. Between reaching for the vial at his belt and attempting to slay the beast one more time before it runs away, Dimitri has made his decision -- one the wyvern can read in his eye. It screeches before it tries to bite him and run away. Ignoring the burning sensation spreading through his veins, Dimitri rushes after it, rapidly closing the distance between them.

The chase leads them to a small clearing, in the middle of which a rudimentary house stands. The wyvern spreads its wings, seizing the opportunity to take flight. Right as its claws leave the ground however, the witcher strikes with all his might. The monster falls back onto the grass, slamming against the wooden wall and breaking more than a few planks.

Now or never.

Finally, Dimitri manages to separate the creature’s damn head from its body.

And the last thing he hears before he passes out on the ground is words he can’t make out in a man’s voice.

* * *

It isn’t the first time Dimitri was poisoned and it’s not likely to be the last either. When he finally opens his eye, he takes a few slow, deep breaths, only to find that he feels… surprisingly fine, except for the soreness of his muscles. He experiences no sickness or dizziness and the pressure around his waist indicates that his wound has been dressed.

The voice he heard before he passed out jumps back to his mind.

There’s no sign of his host yet, but something seems to be brewing in what Dimitri supposes is the kitchen area of this small single room house. The scent is a little muddled, slightly different from anything he’s familiar with, although he recognises the particular bitterness of an anti-poison.

Dimitri props himself up on the bed where he was left. Perhaps the room isn’t that small, but it is _filled to the brim_ with trinkets, intricate vials, books, clothes, monster parts floating in jars, dry herbs, dirty dishes… Everything scattered about with apparent carelessness, with perhaps a few pieces of furniture buried somewhere underneath.

And one of the walls is cracked, most of what was on it now adding to the mess on the floor.

Right, that happened. Dimitri should apologise.

He carefully gets up, not because his body isn’t hurting, but because he’s already broken a wall, and he finds himself in the middle of the biggest clutter he’s seen, certainly not meant for someone of his build to navigate through. He is so focused on _where_ he can fit his limbs that he doesn’t notice his head hovering dangerously close to the ceiling.

A thud sounds, and a muffled groan and a voice behind him follows, the same voice from before. “You’ll only find rest when you’ve completely destroyed my house, won’t you?”

Dimitri turns around, only to hit his head on another beam, and if his host’s voice conveyed his annoyance just before, he is now smirking at the pitiful display.

“Please accept my apologies, I will fix your wall, I promise.”

The man hums, unconvinced, and nimbly makes his way to the table. His shirt is covered in blood, but he seems unharmed. In his hands is something that looks like… a heart? Much bigger than that of a human and he answers before Dimitri can even open his mouth. “I’m taking that wyvern. For my wall.”

“I’m supposed to…”

“Bring its head back to the village and exchange it for a bag of coins.” The man replies without looking at Dimitri. “You’re a witcher.” He carefully places the wyvern’s heart in an empty jar.

“Dimitri. And you are?”

“Claude. How are you feeling?”

“Exceptionally well, given the circumstances.” Dimitri tries to smile, but he has caused a lot of problems for Claude, hasn’t he? “Thank you, Claude. You saved my life.”

“Did you truly want to be saved?” Claude wipes his hands on his pants. “You had some anti-poison on you, why not take it?”

Why not? Dimitri would have taken time to think about it if he didn’t feel like he was being interrogated. “It was about to run away, it was my job to stop it. The townsfolk were counting on me and I need the coin to eat,” he answers, defensive.

“The wyvern too needed to eat.”

“I’m not the one who opened its chest to grab its heart.”

“Correct, you’re the one who cut its head off.” Claude rolls his eyes. “It’s already dead. It’d be _more_ of a waste to not help myself. I need monster parts for my craft. Including its head.”

Dimitri frowns, annoyed that he’s being accused of killing the beast in cold blood, but he’s in no position to argue. Claude saved his life and if he wants the wyvern in payment, it’d be unbecoming to protest. At least it won’t cause the village any more problem; this is what matters.

“The wyvern is for the wall, but…” Claude makes a pause and his eyes fall on the lion-shaped medallion dangling from Dimitri’s neck. “For your life, I’ve another idea. Your metabolism is faster and more resilient than mine. I like to make my own potions, try new things. I usually try them on myself, but my very own witcher? I can’t pass this chance, especially if you have so little regard for your own life.”

Dimitri stares at Claude in disbelief, but Claude is looking at him with impossibly green eyes, waiting for an answer. “Are you a druid?”

“Druid, sorcerer, whatever you want to call it,” Claude replies, dismissive. “Well? C’mon! I’m not going to kill you. If you die, it’s not on purpose. I _did_ save your life and as far as I know, the School of the Lion follows some sort of strict moral code. More knightly than most knights, I heard. Shouldn’t you settle your debt?”

Dimitri would hate to leave without properly thanking Claude, and if those are his terms... Oh, if Dimitri’s friends were here, how they would laugh at him. He nods, only slightly, and Claude smiles, satisfied.

“Wonderful! I’m not done with the wyvern yet, but since you kindly offered to repair my wall, you should do just that.”

And without another word, Claude leaves the house again. When he passes Dimitri by, the witcher notices pointed ears under Claude’s thick and wavy black hair.

Strange.

As far as Dimitri knows, the elves who have chosen to remain in the woods have gathered in small communities, but few people could find Claude’s house, not when this forest is known to be filled with monsters. Besides, Claude is a little short for an elf, is he not? The few Dimitri has met were about his height or taller, but Claude is almost a head shorter.

He shouldn’t stare. It’s best not to upset a sorcerer.

* * *

Outside, the wyvern still lays where it fell the previous night. When Dimitri leaves the house to keep his promise, he finds Claude sitting on a stool, right in front of its open belly, knife in hand and arms buried deep in the creature. Dimitri was taught a few things about magic, being a magic user himself to an extent, and he’s able to make potions that are decent enough, but as a sorcerer, Claude’s knowledge must be far more advanced than his own. Not to mention that Dimitri’s only experience with a seasoned magic user so far has been — Dimitri frowns as the memories come back to him — _far less than pleasant._ Claude hasn’t tried to kill him yet (although that may change once Dimitri tries his potions), and that puts him at the top of Dimitri’s list of nicest magicians he knows. An unfortunately low bar.

Curious, he approaches Claude and kneels behind him. Claude’s movements are quick, yet precise, practised. “I doubt many people know this forest is inhabited,” Dimitri says, his gaze following Claude’s hands.

“And I like it that way. I like my peace and quiet, you see.”

“The village could use someone with your expertise. I heard their healer died a few weeks ago.”

Claude scoffs at that and Dimitri sees the corner of a bitter smile on his lips. “I don’t need to paint you a picture, witcher, you know how it is. They’re a bunch of ignorant fools that blindly hate ‘non-humans’. Don’t see why I’d care. They only deal with my kind, _or yours,_ when they’ve no one else to turn to, then they tell you to fuck right off and never come back.”

Dimitri may be kind, but he isn’t foolish. He’s already been shown all the gratitude in the world, but it’s rare compared to the countless times he’s been refused a room or even food on his travels, spat at by men who felt a little too bold or had too much to drink. Even being — Dimitri assumes — half-human, Claude must still be met with contempt from humans and elves both, and so it makes sense that Claude would choose to isolate himself from both. Still… Dimitri finds himself staring at Claude, but is dragged out of his thoughts when Claude shoves one of the wyvern’s lungs in his hands and gestures to the bucket right next to them.

“What about you, sir witcher? You must have a story, all witchers do.”

“You mean you…” _Haven’t heard of me?_ Dimitri blinks in surprise. No, it makes sense if Claude has spent most of his life isolated in the forest. Tales of the prince fallen from grace and adopted by a group of witchers who taught him the trade have spread throughout Fódlan ever since the assassination of King Lambert, some forty years ago, ever since the usurper tried to wipe his bloodline. Many were exaggerated, but at their very core all are true, with Dimitri’s prowess and skills in battle only fuelling his myth. Or his foolishness, depending on the versions.

Or his cowardice, for not retrying to claim his throne while his people are bled dry.

“It’s nothing too special. I’m an orphan and was found starving by the road.”

Claude hums, not hiding his scepticism, and finally looks at Dimitri. His gaze meets those piercing green eyes, and Dimitri knows Claude is trying to see any sign of him lying.

He didn’t lie. It’s what it is, stripped of all the details. But the silence grows heavy and Claude won’t look away. “I… wanted to learn how to fight. I was told the life of a witcher isn’t a good or pleasant one, still, I didn’t want to be weak anymore.”

Claude tilts his head to the side. His eyes fall on Dimitri’s eyepatch. “Were your parents killed by monsters? Is that why you’re so set on protecting the _poor_ townsfolk?”

Dimitri shakes his head. With his throne out of reach, perhaps it is all he can do now, to make life easier for those who have it worse than him. Fortunately, Claude seems to catch his uneasiness and turns his attention back to the dead wyvern when Dimitri takes too long to reply, surely thinking that he’ll have other chances to learn more about Dimitri.

And Dimitri can’t shake the thought that Claude must be happy to have some company.

After Claude has taken all he could from the beast, they burn its remains. Neither flinches when the smell of burnt flesh fills their surroundings, but as Dimitri is about to turn around, he notices that Claude doesn’t seem like he’s going to move anytime soon. He’s staring right into the fire, watching the flames consume the monster. It doesn’t feel appropriate to leave. Dimitri looks at Claude before he hesitantly pats his shoulder and Claude doesn’t move, or react at all, until not much remains, then he turns away and finally speaks: “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

* * *

“Hey, Dimitri. _Dimitri._ ”

When Dimitri opens his eye, he finds Claude kneeling by the bed, close enough that Dimitri blinks in surprise. After a glance out the window, it seems like the sun is barely up. Claude was still up when Dimitri went to sleep and the other end of the bed is as cluttered as Dimitri remembers it from the previous night. “Did you sleep at all?” Dimitri asks, voice raspy.

Claude shrugs dismissively and jumps on his feet. “Come and meet me outside, your first potion’s ready. I bet you’re impatient.”

Before Dimitri can protest, Claude is already outside. This is going to take some getting used to, Claude doing as he pleases, but there’s a spark of excitement in his eyes and he did say he wouldn’t try to poison Dimitri — not actively, anyway, so Dimitri drags himself out of bed and follows the sorcerer outside and further into the forest.

Everything is silent save for the birds chirping. The morning dew softens the cracking of the leaves under Dimitri’s feet. Claude seems as at ease in his forest than he is back at his place. While Dimitri keeps on looking at his feet to make sure he doesn’t stumble on some root, Claude is effortlessly progressing past the trees, humming a song Dimitri doesn’t recognise.

Claude spins on his heels when he decides they’re far enough from his house. He’s balancing a small glass vial between his fingers. “Finished it about ten minutes ago.”

_And he couldn’t wait for me to wake up?_ Dimitri smirks but doesn’t say a word. There’s a childlike excitement in Claude’s voice and gestures, so communicative that Dimitri is looking forward to hearing more about Claude’s… grand project, despite being the main test subject.

“I’m trying to create some magic enhancer.” Claude throws the vial at Dimitri who catches it with ease. “Drink up! Then try to face me, using only your magic.”

“Only my magic? Claude, there is no way a witcher can go against a-” An orb of fire lands right at Dimitri’s feet and Claude’s laughter reaches his ears.

Claude is serious! Dimitri opens the vial and downs its content, wincing at the awful taste, but instantly, he feels a huge surge of magic power. Too much to handle. He falls on his knees with a groan as his veins grow darker, his scars standing out more, reddened by the pulsing sensation under his skin.

“Well?” Claude is looking at Dimitri, unconcerned, fire dancing in his palm. Must be part of the results he was expecting.

Taking a deep breath, Dimitri gets back on his feet, and as Claude makes the gesture to send another burst of fire his way, Dimitri creates a shield around his body. The flames crash against the invisible wall, but the stream of flame doesn’t stop. Claude intends on pushing Dimitri to his limits, doesn’t he? The witcher frowns, clenching his fingers slowly as he maintains the shield as best he can. Under normal circumstances, it’d have shattered long ago, but even Dimitri’s enhanced strength is leaving him as quickly as it manifested itself.

Claude must have calculated that too because the flames stop before the shield breaks. Claude wants a fair fight? He’ll have it. For Claude’s research, for the thrill of the fight. For Dimitri’s pride. A little.

Claude is standing at a decent distance, surely fearing the witcher’s power more than he’s willing to show, and when Dimitri charges him, Claude is taken aback by the bluntness of the assault. When he’s within reach, Dimitri casts a telekinetic blast, shaking all the trees caught within the attack. Claude is sent flying and lands face flat against the ground.

Dimitri’s eye widens in surprise. Did he get too carried away? Claude seemed like he could withstand it!

“Claude! I… Oh, dear…” In the blink of an eye, Dimitri is kneeling by Claude’s side. It’s best not to move him, in case he broke a bone. Perhaps he should return to the house to grab medical supplies. But what if Claude gets attacked by a monster in the meantime?

A strong gust of wind throws Dimitri off balance, and the next thing he sees is Claude, towering over him, pressing his foot against Dimitri’s chest to keep him pinned down. “Now you know what happens when someone underestimates me,” Claude says with a cheeky smile. “Neither your shield or blasts are this strong usually, am I right?”

Dimitri nods, looking up at Claude. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to let Dimitri get back up quite right away and would rather savour his victory a little longer. “But the potion is taking a great toll on my body. I can feel myself… growing weaker.”

Claude hums, lost in thoughts. “Not quite what I want. The potion’s toxicity is still too high. The goal is to allow someone to reach their full potential, unbridled, and not to poison their very essence. Tomorrow, we’re trying a new formula. I’ve an idea.”

* * *

Tomorrow, the day after, the one after that…

Dimitri stopped counting the days after the first two weeks spent with Claude. A bit of a routine found its way in the men’s lives.

In the mornings, they face each other in combat, trying the newest freshly-brewed formula Claude worked on during the night. Each fight is tenser than the previous one as they each get used to the other’s fighting style, movements and thought-processes. While Claude will never attack too boldly, the exact opposite is true of Dimitri who will rush into the fight, a glint in his eye and ready to strike.

Regardless of the outcome, it always ends the same way: their laughs echo through the forest, scaring the birds and the other small mammals nearby. Claude has a nice laugh — surprisingly hearty, not exactly gracious as the rest of him might suggest, and while Dimitri admittedly knows barely anything about art, it is a sweet melody to his ears. More pleasant than whatever Sylvain likes to grace his friends’ ears with.

In the afternoons, Dimitri rests a little to recover from… the unwanted side-effects and Claude finds a calm spot to catch the sleep he doesn’t get at night. Until he returns, Dimitri cannot allow himself to stay idle. After Claude’s wall is fixed, he tends to the garden, fixes something to eat with whatever he finds and even cleans the house a little — the little Claude allows him to touch as long as he doesn’t “disturb his perfectly organised mess” anyway.

When dinner comes, they share a few stories. Claude favours a few topics (curses, monsters, the unknown curiosities inhabiting this world...), but his interest is truly piqued whenever Dimitri talks about his travels, the places he’s seen, the people he’s met. Claude has never ventured too far from the forest and drowns Dimitri in questions. How do some people live in town when the streets are all noisy even at night? Is the sea truly as beautiful as Claude has read? How does snow feel on the skin? The excitement and sparkle in his eyes keep Dimitri talking, often far longer than intended, until his eye won’t stay open anymore.

Dimitri asked him once, why Claude doesn’t just pack and go to explore the world and study its secrets.

Claude didn’t reply but looked out the window.

Claude, striving for adventure, for the world outside of the forest. Dimitri, enjoying this simulacrum of a mundane life, something that was never within his grasp. It cannot last, it is not meant to.

_Faerghus needs its rightful king. The usurper has to be killed. The people are starving, the beasts are thriving._

_And you’re playing house with a sorcerer you barely know in the middle of a god-forsaken forest._

* * *

It is easy to ignore the guilt at the pit of his stomach when Dimitri hides behind the excuse that he is repaying his debt to Claude, but he can only grow suspicious when, several days in a row, he feels very little difference between the potions Claude gives him, save for the way they taste. Perhaps Claude is the foolish one, thinking he can trick Dimitri’s enhanced senses. He glances at Claude when he brings the vial to his lips, but the sorcerer’s face remains unreadable, as always when Dimitri asks a question he doesn’t feel like answering, or when he’s about to.

Dimitri doesn’t drink just yet. “The potion is finished, is it not?”

Claude takes a moment to reply, longer than he usually does, as if weighing his options and ends up forcing a laugh. “Ah, you figured me out. I’m just perfecting the taste now.”

Dimitri closes the vial. “I didn’t take you for the kind to care about such things,” he says with a smile so Claude doesn’t mistake his statement for a reproach.

Still, Claude ends up looking at his feet like a child who’s been found with his hand in the cookie jar.

Silence settles between them. Dimitri stayed to repay his debt, but it’s never truly felt like a bother and he’s never abhorred Claude’s company in the least. It’s been a temporary respite, an excuse to put his life on hold. He’s even grown fond of the odd sorcerer, his quirks and all his mysteries — he told himself he’d come to visit him again, that it’d be weird to go back on the road on his own (or to not wake up to Claude’s face a short distance from his own), as much as involving Claude in his complicated life doesn’t strike him as his best idea yet.

On the other hand, while Dimitri isn’t the best judge of character — a flaw that has almost cost him his life more than once — he can say with certainty that Claude enjoys his company as well, their shared meals, their long talks about everything and nothing when they’re walking in the forest. Claude does most of the talking, not that Dimitri minds, he likes to listen to Claude, and all he has to do is ask a few questions to keep him going. While Felix remains the most opinionated person Dimitri knows, Claude comes second and Dimitri thought more than once that he’d love to introduce these two to each other and watch as they get into a heated debate over the best way to cook meat.

His heart gets the best of him this time and dictates his mouth to speak before his brain can stop it. “If you’d like-”

“You want to leave?” Claude cuts him. “I understand. The good people need you or something, right?” Again, he leaves no room for Dimitri’s answer when he turns his back to return to the house.

_You could come with me._ Dimitri presses his lips together as he runs after Claude. No, he won’t let Claude leave the conversation so easily this time. “There’s something-”

“Don’t say anything.”

“Claude, listen-”

Claude opens a portal right in front of him and walks into it, closing it before Dimitri can follow.

Dammit! He’s difficult, but Dimitri can be just as stubborn. He won’t let Claude be on his own again and if he can bring some good into Claude’s life, he will, or at least, he wants to offer him an alternative.

They could travel. Together.

He’ll show Claude all the things he desperately wants to see with his own eyes, they’ll meet all sorts of creatures still unknown to them, study and face them together. There’s nothing in this forest for Claude, even though he may have stubbornly convinced himself otherwise. Is it fear that’s holding him back? Of the unknown, of rejection?

Claude must have returned home. Dimitri runs after him and only stops when he catches the sight of the sorcerer in the distance, coming out of the house. Claude is… packing? Not only that but Dimitri’s own bag and swords are waiting for him by the door.

Claude notices his presence as he gets closer. “I’m coming with you,” he says, seeing the quizzical look on Dimitri’s face. An unexpected development, but a welcome one, as much as it catches Dimitri by surprise. “You see,” Claude casually continues, “your life belongs to me now that I’ve saved it, and I’m not about to let you slip between my fingers and, let’s be honest, Dimitri, if you truly want to go, I can’t hold you back. You’re more unruly than you seem. I suppose I like that about you.”

Dimitri stares at Claude. No, he won’t question it. They both know the reason behind Claude’s decision, and Dimitri fears that if he voices it, Claude may change his mind, overthink, and not give in to his hunger for adventure and companionship.

So Dimitri simply offers Claude a smile and fetches his travel cloak while Claude finishes shoving his things in his bag and satchel — a bag that he hands to Dimitri the first chance he gets when the witcher joins him outside. “Where are we going?”

“I’m headed to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. There is… something I need to do there that I’ve been postponing for too long.”

“I know I said I wanted to see the snow, but Faerghus? If you want me dead, be more direct about it, please.” Claude’s words contradict his tone, filled with the enthusiasm Dimitri has grown to love.

All they need now is a horse or two, and an extra fur cape for Claude.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, my friend, and thank you aster and [who](https://twitter.com/hardkourparcore) for the beta!
> 
> you can find me [on twitter](https://twitter.com/_fhirdiad)
> 
> please leave a kudos/comment if you enjoyed ♡


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